So dearest, I won’t say it’ll be all right because I don’t know enough about what they are doing. I won’t tell you that I’ll see you soon because I’m unsure if I’ll ever see peace again – and dearest, my peace is you, and in my dreams I reach out to you and you hold me together. I know, my dearest, that in my dreams we’re fine, that in my dreams we’re okay. I’d like to think real life is the one in my dreams, and that this life is just an imprint.
With love,
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp (Germany)
April 13, 1944
Dearest,
My mood today is brighter, for I heard the song of a bird flying above – an Aquatic Warbler, I think. And I remembered once when we went for a walk in the park near our home with our children. I remembered how scared Ariella was when the singing Warbler bird came to find a place on her shoulder and how we laughed when it pecked her ear affectionately. I also remembered how quickly she warmed to the bird and its friendly ways and how she cried when we had to leave. “Mama, birdie crying, look, LOOK!!!” Oh, how these memories keep me alive.
Today I said to Clara, “Look, a bird,” and as she looked up the soldiers took aim, and Clara drew a sharp and fearful breath as though she had been strangled. BANG! But the bird flew on somehow – some way it dodged the bullet, and with that bird our hope for survival was restored. For the rest of the day we lived like birds floating through the camp, Clara and I forever birds at heart.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp (Germany)
June 22, 1944
Dearest,
The horrors of this war continue. Four men yesterday were caught trying to escape. They were lined up in front of us each with a noose around their necks. They breathed their last breath, their eyes saw their last memory and then their bodies swayed in their last breeze as the bitterness of death struck the camp.
This is not right. This war is not just; they are not fighting for anything, they are only fighting to kill us off, to earn slaves and favours. What is behind these thoughts, what did our people do to threaten them?
So many questions that will never be answered.
So many wounds that can never be healed.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp
August 15, 1944
Dearest,
It’s getting cooler, even though it is still Summer. The air is chewing at my brittle body. The wind is trying to suck from me my stubborn hold on hope and the memories of happiness that I refuse to surrender. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. It’s a strange chill. This life is losing its value – we aren’t really living. We are the shadows of existence.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp
November 15, 1944
Dearest,
I’m still walking, I’m still crying, I’m still surviving; but only just. Without you beside me I’m at a loss as to whom to smile at, whom to trust.
Dearest, I don’t know why I’m even trying so hard to survive. Surely it would be more peaceful, easier just to die – no more tears no more lies no more pain. But I’m still smiling, I’m still dreaming that you’re near. Without you to hold me, to keep me safe, I’m left to be comforted by warm memories that hold me back from the endless unknown.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp
February 3, 1945
Dearest,
The mood is changing. The soldiers are worried, and more inmates from the other sections are being shot, more regularly, for fewer reasons it seems. It is like a random selection of death. I wonder what has made the guards so uneasy? Their unease scares me. Their nervousness makes them ruthless and keeps us still in fear.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp
March 17, 1945
Dearest,
Some talk of escaping. I do not intend on trying but Joelle does. She says it’s too hard here to exist and if she dies, she’ll be neither sad nor sorry. Joelle tried to convince Clara to go too, but she refuses to leave. She said to Joelle that she would not run like an idiot away from soldiers just to be caught and killed. But she says to me that she will not die in a place that holds no happy memories.
It is a fair point. I too do not like the idea of dying in this place where I have not known happiness.
This camp is between two small towns, we think. For us it exists between life.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp
March 22, 1945
Dearest,
They are gone, Joelle and the others, two days ago and they have not yet been caught. The soldiers selected a group of men to die for the ones who escaped. Twenty were taken as penance for ten. Clara was contemptuous towards the ten, before they left. She of course had been suspicious of how the soldiers would react when they found they were missing prisoners – though she admits to being pleased that Joelle did not get caught. I am worried about Clara. She gets weaker every day, thousands are dying around us, of disease and starvation. There is nothing I can do, and so I pray.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp
April 15, 1945
Dearest,
FREEDOM.
FREEDOM. FREEDOM.
I BREATHE THE AIR OF FREEDOM.
It was so fast, so quick and so nearly without innocent casualties. Liberation took place at our camp; it was a confusion of shots and screams. But it was quick, too quick almost for me to bear witness. I was inside with Clara, who was weaker again this morning – too weak. I thought it would be safe for me to stay with her today. Many of the SS have left and others have just been walking around the place with white armbands on.
The British are here now, this very day. I can hear their voices but I don’t care. My darling Clara is dead, gone. She looked up at me and said, “This afternoon we are free, Susanna. I can die now that I am a free person,” and with that her eyes closed and she was gone. I cried but I was happy too; she died knowing that we were liberated and knowing that we were safe. She is watching now. Perhaps, my dear, she has found you and you are with her family, caring for us all, the ones left who are still stuck in between it all.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
April 19, 1945
Dearest,
They took all of the healthier women and men away first in carriages, and then the others to the other side of this encampment, where there is a make-shift First Aid station. I was afraid for my Clara – where was she to go? What was to happen with her body? I walked out of the room and found the soldier with kindness in his heart. “Help me,” I asked him, and so he came over. I pointed to Clara’s little body and then spread my hands in despair. “Is she gone?” I said. He nodded. “She is gone.”
He picked her up and I panicked at first, but then I trusted him. He carried her and I followed behind him, cautious and confused. Pointing to a shovel on the way, he carried her outside the camp gates. He finally set her down gently, took the shovel and began to dig and bury her free.
Once he had finished he laid her in the ground. I could not help but cry, and he looked at me. “A prayer of farewell?” he asked. I nodded and he prayed for her, then he pushed the dirt back over her body, not using the shovel, just his hands. Then he pulled a branch off a nearby tree and with his pocketknife he carved her name and the year. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at her grave, and with that he placed the branch above where he knew her head lay. Then he walked away. I looked down too. “Goodbye,” I said. Then I turned and followed him.
Once back at the camp he and I were put into a truck and driven off. He was silent all the way, as was I. Around us were mostly women and children, not always theirs. Some children were alone, and being cared for by the Allies and white-banded SS.
It did not take long for us to reach this new place – Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons camp, a short drive away b
ut in the same grounds and bearing a different name.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
June 22, 1945
Dearest,
I have changed. If anyone we knew saw me they wouldn’t know me. Only you would know me, dearest, and I sense you’re gone. I know it in my heart.
Now I am safe from the past, I am clearing my memory, I am starting again. I live on, dearest, with you and Clara always in my heart.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
July 18, 1945
Dearest,
This place we are at now looks as though it will be home for a while. There are mainly Jews here, dearest, and British also, who care for us. Many of the intellectuals at the camp do not like the British and Canadians, but they are our salvation. I don’t mind either people. They are building us up on hot soup. There is a woman who comes in once a week. She is German and I think that she is kind. I enjoy conversations with her very much. She has a son who was a Nazi but she received word from his commanders that he defected and joined the Partisans. They interrogated her and threatened her because of his actions. She is not sure if he is alive but she is keeping faith.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
August 3, 1945
Dearest,
I am searching for our daughter and our son. My new German friend, Greta, has said she will help me look. She has a friend who is very involved as a Displaced Persons official and she says that it may be possible for me to find them.
I am praying as hard as I can, and it seems our God is listening – he must be, so many good things are happening. A woman I knew at the camp has found out that her husband is alive. She got the news yesterday. And there have been many weddings recently; it is truly beautiful to see so much love. Most people are ignoring the past for now, although there is still sadness and much sickness. There is still death, but there is also love, something that was for so long hidden beneath our emotionless faces.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
August 11, 1945
Dearest,
I saw my kind soldier, Frederick, today. We talked for a while. My German is good enough to hold a conversation. I told him about our children and about Greta, and he told me about his family. Frederick is Danish and his brother is in Berlin and has been arrested. His brother will be tried for war crimes. I was surprised when he told me this. His father is also up for trial – willing converts to the Nazi cause. None of them are speaking to him anymore. He is alone aside from his mother, who is still in Denmark with her family. She didn’t want any of her family to go to war (what mother would?) and the moment they went they were dead to her. But what choice did Frederick have? The Nazis were so strong and insistent. To refuse was to die.
We talked until Greta came. She had good news for me. Good news for you, too, my beloved, wherever you are. If you are.
She has found our children! Little Ariella and Herschel have survived this dreadful time – they have been in northern Italy all this time, both of them! How they got there I am yet to know. It’s a long way from the Hungarian border that we passed them across. I could not be happier than I am right now. In fact, when I found out I grabbed both Greta and Frederick’s hands, pulled them up and made them dance with me to the music of my laughter and tears. Oh, how I long to see them.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
September 1, 1945
Dearest,
The DP officials have arranged to bring our children to Bergen-Belsen DP Camp. They are on the train now. I’m too excited, and anxious to see them. Frederick tried to calm me down by setting up a chessboard that some of the other men made in the earlier days of our time here. Greta will meet the children for me because we cannot leave the compound yet. The British and Canadian soldiers in charge of the camp are taking care of us now, making sure we have proper food and clothing, and giving us back a sense that we matter. That we are not the forgotten people.
Frederick and I are sitting outside now. I am writing and he is asleep. He is a sweet man, with soft eyes. I can’t be sure how old he is. He must not be much younger than I, maybe in his late twenties.
Yesterday I found an old supply box that looks as though it may have contained tools of some sort, or perhaps paintbrushes. The box was smaller than a usual supply box and the wood was slightly rotten from being in the damp for so long. But it will suffice. So I washed it out, and I have these last letters to you inside it. Now I will have them forever.
I am gathering belongings. Slowly I am creating a life.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
September 5, 1945
Dearest,
They came today, our children! Greta brought them to me. The children had been sharing a carriage between Berlin and Bergen-Belsen with her son Franz and his friend Helga. Greta was grinning as she arrived. Herschel walked with her, nervously holding one of Ariella’s hands tightly, while Ariella held Helga’s hand as well. Helga looked scared and overwhelmed by such a reunion that she did not belong to. Herschel seemed confused but still wary. Ariella, it seemed, had taken it upon herself to create joy out of this strange situation. She walked with confidence, swinging both arms forward and back, making a domino effect so that the trio looked like a six-armed flock of birds.
I didn’t know if they would recognize me in this state, but when they saw me watching them timidly from inside the gates they ran into my arms. We hugged, cried and clung to each other all day. I couldn’t bear to let go of either of them.
Greta had a surprise at the station. As she stood on the platform searching for the children in the crowd, and worrying that she would somehow miss them, she caught sight of a man helping a woman, who she supposed was his wife, off the train. Greta continued to watch them, for some reason transfixed by the scene.
I wonder what it is that fixes our beloved in our memories?
The turn of a head?
The flash of a smile?
The woman got off the train, then turned and carried down a little girl who Greta hoped to be Ariella. Greta pushed her way hurriedly through the crowd, calling out, “Ariella.” By the time she got to the group, the man had lifted Herschel down and the two children were staring at Greta, unsure if they should greet her or not. “Excuse me,” Greta said to the man, who had not heard her call out.
He turned, and to her amazement and delight she discovered that the man was indeed Franz, her son. What joy! The children had been sharing a carriage with Franz and his friend, Helga.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
September 7, 1945
Dearest
For the first time in these long two years I feel as if I have a sort of family, almost complete. Frederick joined us in our new family affair. Herschel likes him very much and the boys, Frederick and Franz, get along very well also. They have suffered too; you can see it in their eyes. But laughter makes them shine and maybe in such times they can pretend they were not robbed of their youth.
Sometimes, my darling, a single moment of beauty is enough. Memories can fade … it seems as if the last few years have begun to fade this afternoon.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
October 2, 1945
Dearest,
Greta and her extended family come to the camp most days. I am helping Helga with her German; I have the patience to do it. I myself had to learn the language as well, and so it seems right. Franz and Frederick want to leave Germany soon. Frederick has been talking to the British soldiers about how the rest of the world is dealing with the aftermath of the war, and it seems there are still a lot of trouble spots. Anti-Semitism is still powerful in some places. Nazi oppression is still supported by some people. This I don’t understand.
Greta thinks if Franz leaves she will go t
oo, as will Helga. Maybe I will leave with them. Our children and I will start again, darling. They ask about you, though less so now than when they first arrived. They left Poland before we did.
Maybe one day we’ll know what happened, where you went. After all the things that have passed, all the horrors and chaos, I don’t know if I can bear to ask what became of you, my dearest. In not asking, there is still the possibility that you are among us, somewhere.
But I can’t stand the cold possibility that you are dead. That would be too final, for now. Soon I will face the foreboding in my heart and put in a search for you, and face the fear of a permanent truth, of what happened to a man so loved, and how any of this was ever possible. There is no ‘why’ for any of this.
I love you. I still remember everything about you. How you smiled and laughed, your occasional tears and fears when you could not hide them from me anymore. The way you made me believe we’d be okay. You were always there to protect me and in my dreams I sought your gentle care. Who was there to protect you? Did my prayers reach you?
I will always remember you, my darling, my dearest, my love.
Susanna.
Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp
November 9, 1945
Dearest,
We’re leaving, all of us, walking away from Germany and leaving behind this hateful past. Greta has friends in Denmark and Frederick speaks Danish. He thinks maybe his mother will see him now. I hope so, anyway.
Ariella and Herschel are excited about leaving. They skip around with Helga. I think she probably learns more German from them than anyone. Herschel has taken it upon himself to be her teacher. His German, he tells me, is perfect and I must say both our children are becoming rather fluent, though they still speak Polish with me – with a thick Italian accent.
One day I’ll ask them how it was for them in wartime. But not yet. No. Now we must enjoy peace.
Susanna.
Copenhagen (Denmark)
December 13, 1945
Dearest,
We are in Denmark now, all of us, together and surviving. It is another language to learn, and another culture to get used to, but I have confidence. And after hoping for so long, I now have faith – faith that we will be okay; for we are the surviving remnants.
The Handkerchief Map Page 4
